


Victoria's Secret

by nischi



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 1890s au, Anal Plug, F/M, Hannigram - Freeform, I WAS SO WRONG, LITERALLY, M/M, PWP, Puppy Play, Submissive Will, Will is a dog, dog tail butt plug, dubcon, i cant believe i actually wrote this, i thought my last fic was rock bottom, there is no extent to which i will ignore the existence of this fic, un-beta'd, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 16:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5935423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nischi/pseuds/nischi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1890s Victorian oneshot where Will is essentially a live-in dog and his master decides to get a portrait from a certain artist</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victoria's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> To anybody reading this that knows me in real life: blame Shannon, and never mention this to my face. Ever. 
> 
> Please.
> 
> Inspired by literally looking out of a coffee shop window and stringing some words together. It's not supposed to make sense so I won't even apologise for that.

Often it has been noted that there many secrets from history have been mislaid – the knowledge in the library of Alexandria, the lost army of Cambyses. Some things, once lost, have been rediscovered – the city of Troy, lost after the 12th century and revived in the 19th. That being said, there are some secrets still that have been carefully kept, for more than a hundred years. No written record has been left, but the rumours float to the surface every now and again.

“Come now, that’s a good boy,” Victoria called. The woman was draped comfortably across her rather padded chaise longue, the red velvet worn away from excessive use. A gift from her late husband, it had been upholstered several times since then. The carved frame was painted with a sumptuous golden hue. “That’s it, sit.”

A young man crawled towards her on all fours. His head bowed, the queen could only see the top of his unruly mop of curls. They fell messy and loose across his crown, shaking softly as he shuffled towards the seated woman. He let out a short ‘huff’ as he moved across the room.

“Now, Will, a good dog doesn’t leave his master waiting,” she cooed, ushering the man on. The lithe man hurried a little, his knees reddening as they scraped across the worn carpet. He had crawled this path many times, the route practically paved out underneath him. Will almost didn’t feel the carpet burn anymore, he was used to it rubbing against his skin.

He reached his master and nuzzled into her crotch. One ringed hand was clasping a large red wine, the other hung loose around her stretched out legs. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling softly at his brown curls. Will shivered, the feeling of being touched spread like electricity down his spine.

“I have a treat for you today, my dear Will,” Victoria drawled. “But first, we are going to have to dress you up to look your best.”

*******

“One should never play favourites, Will, but I suppose it is no secret. You, my pet, are worthy of something special.” The woman ran a cold, wrinkled hand down Will’s back, and the boy shuddered. She reached down between his legs and squeezed. Hard.

“You’ve come so far in recent days, I deemed it wise to celebrate. Your training is going so well, my dear.”

Will was lying on the floor in front of the red chaise longue. He curled into a semi-relaxed ball, panting quietly, keeping his hands folded underneath his head. It was all he could do to not touch himself. Each shiver pulsed him deep to his core – his backside stretched open with the biggest plug he had encountered thus far. To fit it in he had applied something slick from a sweet-smelling bottle, and applied it _liberally_. Some was spilling out around the plug, dripping downwards and chilling his balls.

He couldn’t remember life before this, lying on the plush carpet. When he wasn’t lying here he was sleeping alongside the others. “The Queen’s Dogs,” they were called. Affectionately by some, insultingly by others.

It was a life of luxury, one supposed. If you could call it that.

He had been opened slowly, at first. Teased open. Then more, and more still.

His first reward had been a specially-made plug, complete with fluffy tail and matching ears.

The second had been getting to insert the tail himself.

Over the last few weeks, he had been receiving more and more attention from the queen. More attention meant more playtime, and more playtime… Well.

This was the largest plug, by far. It filled him almost to the brim, dancing across his prostate with each twitch of his pale body.

He had taught himself to “lie back and think of England” a long time ago, but every fleeting moment of contact as Victoria grazed her fingers across his soft skin left him writhing.

Will donned his ears, made from the dark brown hair of a rabbit or a meerkat or something of the likes. They were nestled deep in his curls, the headband hidden in the unruly mess.

“This time, we will perhaps do something a little different.” The queen leaned under her chair, pulling out a small box. Will was sitting on his knees, hands bunched in front of him. Waiting patiently.

She pulled out a silken mask and slid it over Will’s eyes. He sensed her lean forward, then a pressing force around his wrists. He heard a quiet clink. Will tried to pull his hands apart, and found he could move them no more than a few inches.

“Hush, now, puppy. We’ll be expecting a guest shortly, and one must be on one’s best behaviour. Now, if you sit still I will allow you to prepare yourself.”

And so Will sat. A small bottle was passed into one hand, a tail into the other. Will leant forward, his head forced down on the soft carpet while his ass was lifted into the air; he turned, offering the sight up to his master. He heard a sharp intake of breath.

Will opened the bottle, rubbing a small amount of liquid on the pads of his fingers. He reached underneath himself, both hands still tied together. He circled the tip of one finger around his hole, probing it gently. His moans were stifled by the carpet he was pushing himself further into. One finger slipped in, then another.

The queen’s dog poured more of the sticky substance onto his hand, dripping it everywhere due to the awkward angle. He brought his hands forward again and searched for the tail. Slicking it up, Will lifted his hips higher. He heard a murmur of approval.

Slowly, the man pushed the plug in deep. There was a slow burn, followed by a sharp pain as his hands were pushed forwards. “Time’s up, our guest is here. Sit.”

Will lay on the floor. It was the biggest plug he had experienced, and he had to steady his breathing. Every inhale and exhale shifted the plug, a pathetic whine escaping Will’s mouth.

“I wish to commemorate our time together, Will. Sit still, dear, and let me see you.” That was Will’s cue. He lifted his hips, and curled his head towards the voice. His bottom lip was pushed out in a pout. For once, he was glad to not be able to see himself – he could feel the bright flush of his cheeks, and the fire blazing its way through his body. “Yes. Exactly like that.” Will rested his head on the cuffs around his wrists.

He heard the scraping of a chair, the unpacking of some sort of equipment. Will’s body hummed.

“I have commissioned a portrait, so that this moment shall never be forgotten. My, how far we have come.”

Will wasn’t sure how long he lay there, prostrate. Occasionally he heard the flick of a brush, the squelch of something being poured. Paint, he guessed. Will lost the feeling in his limbs, then the feeling came back. The pins and needles prickled his skin, and the sudden shift nudged the plug again.

He was still on the edge. It felt like it had been hours. How fast did painters usually move, anyway?

There was a slow clapping. “Marvellous,” the queen spoke. “I will hang that with pride. You may now take your payment.”

There was a shuffle of cloth, the clatter of objects being laid down and put away. Will closed his eyes under the mask, his head still lain on his cuffed wrists. He breathed out slowly, relaxing his hips. A waft of paint hit his senses, and a rough hand pulled his hair – yanking his head from its resting place.

“H-huh?” Will’s head was pulled back, neck stretched. A second hand clamped down around his jaw, strong fingers firmly grasping either side of Will's face.

His face was twisted from side to side, the man viewing his profile – getting a good look in a different light, Will guessed. He sensed a new smell, something musky.

Something wet and hot rubbed against Will’s cheek.

A harsh whisper. “Open up.” Will clenched his mouth shut tight.

“Will. Behave like a good boy. Hannibal has painted a beautiful portrait of you, and you must let him have his reward.” The hand put pressure on his jaw, forcing it open.

Will reluctantly stuck his tongue out, curling it in the air. He felt the heat of the man’s flesh searing his tongue. Slowly but steadily the artist made Will his bitch; fucking his mouth with aplomb. The tail plugging into his ass still rubbing against his prostate, Will relented to the intrusion and hollowed his cheeks.

Hannibal pulled his dick out with an almost inaudible ‘pop’. He let go of Will’s head, and stepped calmly around the man who was still keeled over. Squaring up behind the dog, Hannibal pushed Will’s head to the floor again. He hoisted the boy’s hips into the air and pushed lightly on the tail. He was rewarded with a satisfied groan.

The artist slid the tail out of Will, his hole still slick with lubricant. He lined himself up and pushed inside, leaning over the dog. He bent close and grasped Will’s cock, holding the base firmly. Thrusting into Will, Hannibal began to slide his hand up and down Will’s shaft.

“I heard rumours, you know. Of the Queen’s Dogs.” Will moaned due to a deft roll of Hannibal’s hips. “They said the Dogs were well trained. Though I never expected it to turn out like this…” The man sped up his thrusts, breathy moans pressed to Will’s ear.

Hannibal increased the pressure on Will’s cock and he felt Will clench down around him. He released his load onto the carpet, and Hannibal shortly behind him. Pulling out, he let go of the dog and Will’s spent body dropped to the floor, exhausted.

His hands still bound, the brunet lay motionless and satisfied on his stomach. An intruding nudge at his hole startled Will, but his limbs remained boneless. Hannibal reinserted the tail, sealing in his release. The soft eye mask was pulled from his face, Will blinked hard and squinted, readjusting to the light in the room. He looked up and made eye contact with an older man, his face weathered and his dark sandy hair splattered with paint.

“Good dog. Perhaps one day I shall take you out for a walk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: since writing this I came across this post http://naeshitsherlock.tumblr.com/post/152254357123/ and I'm laughing a lot


End file.
